


lover.

by bananamission



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Universe, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Pet Names, liberal amounts of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananamission/pseuds/bananamission
Summary: "The biggest scam of the century, Leon mused, had been thought up by none other than one Claire Redfield."---- leon's idea of a good time probably didn't involve a bar, many drinks, and random coworkers. but it usually involved the Redfield siblings, with a special mention to Chris.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102





	lover.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time that i actually publish a fic in its entirety. this is a little thing that i wrote last night because it refused to leave me alone while i played RE2 Remake. it's basically fluff with like 10% of plot because i felt bad about just throwing leon in chris' arms like that. i had a lot of fun writing this as it is completely self indulgent. also, this is not beta'd. 
> 
> i did not research much on what leon was supposed to be doing when he was 30. so this is me running away with the little background info i have on canon and twisting it to fit my needs. sorry if i made an enormous mistake, do not hesitate to tell me! actually, do not hesitate to tell me anything, all comments and criticism are welcome!!
> 
> hope you enjoy!

The biggest scam of the century, Leon mused, had been thought up by none other than one Claire Redfield. The culprit was oblivious to such accusations but would wholeheartedly admit to them were she to be questioned. She would.

Leon observed the room from his vantage point in the corner nearest the open window. People were scattered in small groups all around, chatting, laughing, swaying to the music that had grown unnoticeable to him by then. They mingled, drank together. He could see Claire listening to another woman speak among a group of keen-eyed female agents right across from him. To his right, he noticed the top of Chris’ head, peeking out of a pack of raucous men clinking pints together and laughing.

Despite the fact that this get-together had been thrown in his honor, Leon was reluctant to leave his corner. His grip on the glass he had been given half an hour ago tightened — amping up the charm and the theatrics for a mission was fine, but he didn’t know how to act in this kind of setting. There couldn’t be more than fifteen — maybe twenty people in the room, but Leon only knew the Redfield siblings. The others were either coworkers or collaborators he had vague (or no) memories of. But they had all come to celebrate his thirtieth birthday in a cramped little bar privatized by Claire.

Leon sighed and sipped at his drink. He winced at the burn of whiskey — an Old Fashioned. It tasted sour and heady, and Leon surprised himself by downing the rest of the drink quickly after that first sip. With nothing left to give him any countenance as he stood still in his corner, he let his leg muscles unlock and took a few steps towards the bar.

"I see you’ve finally decided to participate."

Leon tilted his head towards the voice but didn’t turn around as he waited for his new drink. He couldn’t recognize who was addressing him —male voice, no noticeable accent, loud enough to be heard above the general buzz of conversation and music in the room—, but went with it, uncomfortable as it might be.

"I figured I wouldn’t be given anymore drinks if I stayed on the other side of the room," he answered simply.

"Ah, but you simply needed ask. I’m sure many in this room would have tripped over their own feet running to get you that drink."

Leon didn’t rise to the bait and kept facing the bar. That Old Fashioned was taking its sweet time getting to his hand.

"But perhaps I should reintroduce myself ; I’m Burt Henry. I assisted you briefly for your little stint in Mexico last year."

That "little stint" had left Leon with serious scars across his ribs and some more PTSD to add to his ever-worsening mental health. To have it mentioned so carelessly raised Leon’s hackles, and he silently seethed.

"Sorry," Leon droned, "I don’t like to talk about missions when I’m not at work."

He then stepped away from the bar, glass handed to him by a bleary-eyed girl with enough tattoos on one arm to mask her skin entirely. He made to go back to his corner and be done with the conversation, but that Burt had other plans.

"It’s just, I figured you wouldn’t remember me, which is why I ever mentioned it at all, you see," he huffed, almost as if he should be the one offended. He started following Leon and ranted on, "I was really excited to come tonight, you’re kind of a legend in the offices and to be able to interact with you at all was a bit of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…"

Leon stopped abruptly and swung around. He didn’t allow himself to take stock of the man — young-faced, tall, well-built but not… _not—_

"Burt. I hunt and kill people for a living. Please do not elevate my function to something it’s not. You don’t—"

"I’m not idolizing you or anything, trust me." Burt sneered, seeming satisfied to have Leon’s attention at last. "I just wanted to see for myself what the great Leon Kennedy’s like face to face. But it seems like the welfare of our nation will always rely on alcoholic, depressive runts."

Leon instinctively reached for his combat knife that would be strapped on his lower back ; his free hand jerked but he knew himself to be completely unarmed tonight, except for the reassuring presence of a pocket knife slipped in his right boot, against his inner ankle. The tone Burt used had lost its honey-infused melody and had soured so fast it had alarmed Leon’s instincts. Feeling ridiculous for almost allowing himself to lose his cool in front of such a ridiculous man, he loosened his shoulders, smiled, and let out a loud bark of laughter that had his drink slosh around the glass.

"I’d never heard that one," Leon chuckled. He downed his drink in one big gulp, and grinned. "Good evening, Mr Henry."

Leon took his leave then, leaving the man to his outraged sputtering and ordering a new drink from the tattooed girl, who had the grace of nodding knowingly and without judgement before getting to work. She slid him a shot of bright green liquid as she poured herself one. He eyed her warily as she drank her own shot without wincing and set on to prepare his order. He smiled a little at her silent and unobtrusive acknowledgement and threw his own shot back. It was very sweet and tasted vaguely of candy. Not his preferred choice of drink, but he still appreciated the gesture.

"I thought I’d find my brother here, not you."

Claire sat heavily in the stool next to Leon, which prompted him to take a seat as well. She waved the girl down and ordered a Gin & Tonic.

"I needed some air from the all the tail-wagging," she continued, unprompted. Leon figured she was talking about the gaggle of agents he had seen her amongst earlier. "They are so keen to learn and get in on the action but…" she sighed and chuckled. "I can hardly see myself teach them that the best course of action in most of what we do relies on improvisation. I feel out of my depth."

All thoughts of railing against her organizing the party for him left Leon at once when he perceived the honest helplessness in her tone and stance. Claire was usually always up for a challenge and faced problems head on. Glancing back at the agents she had been speaking with, he could see why she was feeling out of sorts. They had the candid sincerity of newbies, something Claire and him both possessed when they had met all those years ago in Raccoon City. Facing them must have made Claire nostalgic for easier times, just like Leon often surprised himself dreaming of as well.

She didn’t give him time to react though, and as her cocktail was placed in front of her at the same time as his own drink, she turned a playful eye to him.

"Participating in earnest in the festivities, aren’t we?"

Leon chuckled. "Shut up. Don’t act like this is your first drink of the evening."

Claire sipped gingerly from a straw in her glass. "I’m just now realizing that I’ve never seen you drunk."

"Thank God you haven’t."

She looked curious for a second. "Wait, have you ever been drunk?" she exclaimed, tipping her body towards him. "You were 21 when we met and you looked so pure and innocent, I doubt you even knew what booze smelled like."

Leon sputtered as she guffawed at his indignant expression. He set his glass down. "Claire, what 21 year old has never had alcohol before? All teenagers think they answer to no law."

"‘ _Alcohol_ ’." She repeated, laughing. "See, I knew you were a pure little virgin then. That evening in New York after your first official mission must’ve been the first time you ever tasted something more adventurous than chocolate milk."

Although he knew she was joking, Leon couldn’t help but feel his cheeks heat up at the taunt. He downed his drink to give himself composure. Claire, younger than him as she was, still had the upper hand in verbal jibes, as she had had the experience of fending off her older brother as they grew up.

Before he could find a proper answer though, Claire barreled on. "I remember that evening. I had invited a bunch of guys from the B.S.A.A. and no one showed up but Chris. I even thought you wouldn’t show up until you came into the bar swearing up a storm at the weather."

It was a fond memory for him too. He remembered being knackered by the mission, but the elation from his success had kept him awake for days after he’d come back. The adrenaline had miraculously worn off after their outing, though, and he had slept for 27 hours after that.

Claire clapped her hands once as the tattooed girl placed two fresh drinks in front of them. He blinked, not remembering if he had been the one to order them or if she was just intent on getting Claire and him drunk now. He still thanked her, and she winked — _winked!_ — at him before walking away to her next order.

"It was your first meeting with Chris too!" Claire giggled —Leon peered into her glass to see the beverage was already almost empty— "If I knew then that I would set up my own demise as the eternal third wheel of our group…"

Leon squirmed in his seat, too tipsy to get offended. "What in the world are you talking about?"

She rewarded that question with one of her signature side-looks, and grabbed the tattooed girl’s arm, rather forcefully ordering a new round of drinks. Leon found himself unwillingly amused by that poor bartender, who for all the world looked endeared at Claire’s invasiveness rather than bothered. She then proceeded to line up a dozen shot glasses that she filled up to the brim with tequila, provided them with a bowl of lime wedges and a salt shaker, and left them to it with a cordial wave of her hand.

"I’ll need to ask that girl’s number later," Claire stated, looking delighted by the outcome of her initiative.

Just as Leon had set out on going down his side of shot glasses, naively thinking that Claire had let go of their previous conversation, she turned to him again as she threw back two shots in a row.

"Agent Kennedy, do not think it has gone beyond my notice that you are completely lamb-eyed for my brother."

It was then, as Claire was calmly downing more tequila, and Leon was choking on lime juice, that Chris appeared at their side with a plate of canapés.

"What are y’all laughin’ about?" Chris enquired, looking rather unfairly completely composed despite the hint of smile on his lips.

"Leon’s just not a good drinker." Claire advanced.

"That’s established." Her brother deadpanned.

Leon glared at the siblings, even as he felt his cheeks burning.

"You guys are just more socially adept than me, is all." He grumbled.

Claire cackled, but Chris was focused on Leon. "I did notice you being followed by shithead Burt earlier, what was that about?"

He sat down on the vacant stool next to Leon, radiating warmth, and set the plate of appetizers down in front of Leon so it’d be within reach of everyone.

Chris’ question piqued Claire’s interest, and she leaned forward eagerly. "Shithead Burt? Do we know him?" She enquired, grabbing several appetizers at once.

"He’s one of the voices," —the ‘voices’ were the ones guiding agents during field missions via their ear pieces— "I worked with him once. Was the only time I actually got distracted by my earpiece, dude was so incompetent."

"How is he still on the team then?" Claire egged on.

"Probably someone’s son or acquaintance." Leon guessed.

Chris nodded. "That, or he knows something about someone in the agency." He tapped Leon on the arm. "Which is why I’m asking you what he wanted from you earlier."

Leon locked eyes with Chris. He looked clear-headed, although his hair looked more mussed now than it had at the beginning of the party, and he had unbuttoned his shirt a little. His sleeves were haphazardly rolled up to his elbows, and his cheeks sported a faint trace of stubble.

"He was just saying hi. He worked with me for the Mexico mission and wanted to meet me. That’s all, Chris."

Chris scanned Leon’s eyes, left right, left right, looking for details, before quietly acquiescing, or giving up, and turning away to get to the food. Leon exhaled and finished the tequila shots on his side.

Claire whistled as she watched him drink. "Are you in a hurry, googly eyes?"

Leon groaned and made to get up, but his foot caught on one of the stool legs and he tipped forward, nose-diving for the few appetizers left on the plate. Warm hands caught him around the waist and set him firmly back down on the stool to counterbalance his fall.

"There, there, Bambi legs." Chris muttered.

He removed his hands from around Leon once he was sure the smaller man was steady. Leon didn’t feel steady. On all levels except physical, he was very much not steady.

"Where were you trying to escape to, Leon?" Claire grinned, and Leon cursed her composure. She had to be as drunk as him but looked only slightly disheveled and had likely no balance problems.

"I need some air, I think," he stated, closing his eyes.

He was embarrassed, and his traitorous heart was beating faster than usual. There was a heaviness to his limbs that he had not learned to enjoy, and the whole ordeal had him antsy. Some outside air would freshen up his cobwebbed thoughts, surely.

"Good idea, let’s move, Leon."

Of course chivalrous Chris would say that. Claire said nothing as they departed, her brother maneuvering Leon out of his seat and towards the door, but her shoulders were shaking.

Chris led Leon with an arm around his waist, and his other hand braced on his arm. They walked to the back of the building in silence, exiting it quickly and continuing to walk. They reached a small clearing quickly, away from nosy passersby and overlooking the city. Leon had only stumbled once or twice during their short walk, so he felt Chris’ hold was completely overdone, yet he still mourned the contact when Chris stepped away from him to sit on a fallen tree trunk. Leon sat clumsily next to him. Being outside cleared his thoughts somewhat, but he still felt sluggish.

He jumped a little when Chris spoke. "Never thought I’d babysit a secret agent on their thirtieth birthday because they can’t hold their liquor," he chuckled softly.

"You were the one to take me outside!" Leon huffed, indignant. "I would’ve managed to go by myself, thank you very much."

Chris shook his head. "And have you crack your head on the pavement? No thanks, Bambi legs, I can deal with a cute little drunk like you, but not with a trip to Medical and my sister’s nagging."

Leon’s judgement was still somewhat afflicted, for he couldn’t help but pout at that.

"Oh yeah, worry about Claire’s anger, not about my head, that’s real nice, jerkface."

Chris’ eyes grew comically wide as he gaped at Leon. The latter squinted at him menacingly, resulting in a rather adorable-looking scrunch of the nose. Chris exploded with laughter, making Leon jerk.

"Why, agent Kennedy, a man would think you were serenading them, what with all the sweet talk and doe eyes."

"Is this your kinda flirtin’, Redfield? ‘Cause I got more where that came from, big guy."

Chris’ eyes softened as he gazed at Leon, who was grinning adoringly at him.

"Ain’t bad yourself, Bambi."

For a second Leon couldn’t figure out what Chris was referring to. When he put the pieces together, he snorted derisively.

"What, me? Come on man, next to you I’m a walkin’ stick figure. You got all that"— he gestured vaguely with one hand, encompassing Chris’ figure— "Papa Bear vibe goin’ on, but you also look like you could benchpress a guy, y’know?" Leon sighed wistfully.

"Shut up, you charmer, you’ll make me blush." Chris fanned himself with a hand, making Leon giggle. The sound rang across the clearing, and Chris couldn’t look away.

Leon’s hair was starting to stick up at the back where he kept running his hands nervously, and a strand was crossing over his forehead. Chris leaned forward without thinking and gently sorted the blonde’s hair out, forbidding himself from making eye contact. When Chris retreated, Leon found himself chasing after the warmth of his hands, tipping himself towards the other man’s body. Chris instinctively reached out to stabilize him, holding both his shoulders. Leon’s eyes trailed over Chris’ arms, from his flexed wrist to the bulging biceps under his shirt. He licked his lips and exhaled forcefully, wanting to touch but still having the clarity of mind to not act upon his urges.

Chris observed as Leon’s eyes grew half-lidded as he stared at his right arm. His breathing grew more shallow and his hands tightened into a white-knuckled grip where they rested on the splintered wood of the log. Feeling bold, he removed his hands from Leon’s shoulders, noticing the younger man’s tiny frown at the loss. Leon’s clear eyes lifted to his, and his pupils looked wider than before.

"Like what you see, agent Kennedy?" Chris tempted.

He was fishing for a reaction from Leon, he realized. Not ready to make a perhaps regrettable first step, but willing to throw the bait and see what happened. As he spoke, Chris moved to change his sitting position in a way he knew would make his leg muscles bulge out. Leon followed the movement with his eyes. Hook, line, and sinker.

Leon felt his mouth go dry. Chris was onto him. His fight or flight instincts were screaming at him to react, so he did.

"And what if I do, agent Redfield? Gonna give me a warning? Put me in timeout?"

 _Shit_. Chris hadn’t expected Leon to be emboldened by the alcohol, he had been so meek all evening. He felt his heart quicken with the challenge that Leon posed, and he grinned.

"Nah, Bambi eyes." At that, Leon laughed, and Chris’ smile only grew. "No timeout for ya. I guess I’ll skip out on the warning as well, if you can give me this one thing as compromise…"

Leon’s gaze grew teasing. "Name it."

"Say ‘please’."

Leon couldn’t help but let a quiet whimper escape his lips before he quickly begged, "Please."

"Please what?"

Leon swallowed.

"Please do not give me a warning, please, sir."

Chris felt all the air leave his lungs at once. Instinctively, gaze never leaving Leon’s, he offered a quiet, "Good boy," that he would’ve thought had not been heard if not for Leon’s second, louder whimper of the evening.

Worried, Chris leaned forward, lifting a hand to Leon’s jaw and stroking it gently. "Are you okay, Leon?"

He used his name to ground him, call him back from where he had put him.

Leon closed his eyes and titled his head towards Chris’ hand. He hummed, "Hmhm. ‘M fine, Chris." Sighing in relief, Chris stroked Leon’s jaw again, feeling the slight scratch of growing stubble. He then let his hand slip to the back of his head, and fingered the soft hair there, allowing himself the guilty pleasure of petting one very soft-looking secret agent with eyes like a glacier and legs for days.

Leon let himself be caressed, eyes now open halfway, unfocused. If men could purr, he would be vibrating up a storm. He felt that now that he had been given this touch, this softness, he could kill anything or anyone that came to take it away. So when Chris made to remove his hand, lightning-quick reflexes had Leon grab the offending limb mid-air. His eyes were now fully open and focused, wild with the prospect of being denied something he only had a taste of moments ago.

"Oh Bambi." Chris sighed. His hand was voluntarily limp in Leon’s hold. He’d let him do anything to him, he realized. _Stop doubting the power you hold over me_ , he thought. "Darling. Leon."

Once again, hearing his name made Leon snap to attention, and he considered his grip on Chris’ hand before letting it go. Released, Chris immediately went to touch Leon again, this time with both hands, positioning himself astride the log so he’d reach him better. He settled both his hands over Leon’s lightly.

"You can touch me too, if you want."

The younger man mimicked Chris’ position on the tree trunk so they’d face each other. He then reached for Chris’ biceps, and squeezed the muscle there. Chris chuckled.

"Why am I not surprised? Am I just some muscles to you, Leon Scott?"

"I’ve just been eyeing these for a while. They’ve been taunting me," Leon replied playfully.

He then slid his hands up Chris’ arms to his shoulders, which he explored quickly before shifting to his neck, up the sides and to his nape, where he tangled his fingers together. He used his hold on Chris’ neck to scoot his hips forward in increments, until he had to throw his legs over each of Chris’ knees. He continued to move forward until he was almost flush with Chris’ torso and he could cross his legs around Chris’ hips, completely encompassing him in his hold. Looking into Chris’ eyes for doubt, disgust, or anything that’d stop this all, he then hooked both his arms around Chris’ neck and embraced him fully, their chests touching from shoulders to groin.

Once settled, Leon let out a shaky breath that had Chris wind his arms around Leon tightly, burying his face in the nook between Leon’s shoulder and his neck. The younger man moved his face into Chris’ shoulder and breathed, a scent that was at the same time familiar and now more intimate than ever.

Voice muffled, Leon drawled, "If I don’t remember this tomorrow morning, remind me to track down your sister and kill her, please?"

Chris’ laughter shook the both of them, and Leon found himself laughing as well, eyes wet. He didn’t want to let go, yet didn’t resist when Chris moved back to look at him. They were still in each other’s embrace, and Chris reached for Leon’s cheekbones, which he stroked before placing a quick peck on his lips.

Dazed, Leon whined, seeking that touch again. Chris smiled, "Okay, babydoll, I got you." before replacing his lips on Leon’s. They kissed chastely, neither of them wanting to do anything more than that for now, just enjoying the touch and the intimacy of the gesture.

Eventually, Chris moved back to speak, "Your breath smells like a liquor store, babes."

Leon groaned in embarrassment, making Chris laugh.

"Don’t worry pretty, you could be covered in zombie guts and I’d probably still want to do this."

This made Leon squirm. "I can…go freshen up, I have stuff in my bag, we…"

"Stuff!!" Chris boomed, making Leon smile without thinking as he gazed up at him. "Now, now, Mr Kennedy. I’m a classy lady, I need to be wooed, but if you have ‘stuff’ in your bag, then what can I do? I suppose al fresco is all the rage lately…"

Leon drew his right hand back to hit Chris on the side of the head, effectively shutting him up but not erasing his shit-eating grin from his face.

"Will you shut it, Miss Bennet? Gosh, you really are just a nice view, God forbid you open your mouth." Leon taunted, drawing back from Chris’ embrace and slipping back into their usual back-and-forth teasing.

Chris sighed dramatically, looking for all the world like a rather put-upon 6 feet tall Victorian lady with his eyebrows drawn, his pouty lips, and teary gaze.

"It’d be unfair if I looked this pretty and was the cleverest in the room as well don’t you think? I sacrificed my brains for the greater good, you can thank me later."

Leon knew for a fact that Chris was far from stupid, and would trust him with his life to get them out of any dire situation on the field if it came to it. He laughed. 

"Nah, I’m feelin’ pretty stupid right now so I figure you must’ve taken some still."

Chris’ eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned forward.

"You feelin’ stupid enough to follow me back to my place?"

Leon smiled. "What’s in it for me?"

Chris exaggeratedly gasped and clutched at his chest.

"You needin’ some motivation too? Okay then…" He looked as if he was considering his options for a moment, then clicked his fingers. "What about more of this?"

He flexed his arms ridiculously, as if he were a bodybuilder, making Leon giggle again. Chris looked delighted at the sound.

"Maybe even some more of this, if you’re good like that." He quickly dipped his head towards Leon’s lips and pressed a kiss there, lingering this time, and kitten-licked at the younger man’s lower lip as he withdrew.

Leon looked surprised, and his pupils dilated. _Shit_ , but he looked good enough to eat right now.

"Well," Leon mused, tilting his head bashfully towards the ground, and looking at Chris from under his eyelashes. "I might just be persuaded."

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i might have a minor thing for Chris being Big (him in RE5? ok dad) and Leon being Soft and having Great Legs. Blame it all on RE4 and those kicks.
> 
> my tumblr : yslbanana
> 
> thanks so much for reading!


End file.
